Behind the Mask
by fionadaydreamer
Summary: You think you know the Phantom's story once you've seen and heard the musical or the movie? Well, that's just the tip of the ice berg, mon ami. What if Christine Daaé was never his first love and the music box holds a different meaning behind the melody?
1. Black & Solitude

_So you are, you are the legend, the Phantom of the Opera._

 _I am what man has made me, with his hate and cruel ways._

 _Why are you? Why am I?_

 _The Phantom of the Opera._

 _I have to see... You'll never see..._

 _What's behind the mask._

* * *

Those words repeat in my mind never ending. Hearing or rather imagining the inevitable voice that I adore. A voice that I not only adored but also dared to let it take flight; high above the heavens. Always wishing to reach there but not on my own, I wanted Christine at my side. Yet she her heart longs for someone else.

"Opf! Pardon monsieur." Apologized the young man after he walked into me and paced on the opposite direction from where I came. Barely noticing me and yet eager to see the flames of the Opera Populaire. Barely noticing that I am dressed entirely in black from head to foot; even concealing my face or rather my mask with a big hat. No mysterious stranger, indeed.

The Opera Populaire was the very building I lived so far to see it grow and bloom and now wither in the flames of destruction. It started and ended by me; brick by brick. Maybe you have guessed so far I am running away in search of safety but not any safety. A certain safety off curious eyes and at least where I can find my peace to finish my 'Don Juan Triumphant'. Planning to start with the catacombs and maybe from there I hope to find something better. Although I am focused on what I shall do and maybe where to look or watch, my mind always wanders back to that face that I adore. Beginning to see her face everywhere from the corners of my eyes like a mere ghost. Ironically I was the ghost for other people, known as the Phantom of the Opera and now it is the opposite. I think many people have their own sorts of ghosts, like ghosts of their past. Mine are not nice to look back and do not really want to think back. Never had a loving mother and my father was never there. Mistreated by the Shah in Persia, got almost executed and blinded and now this. Indeed some charming past to look back and it could not be worse, right? On the contrary. Every year that passes makes it unbearable for me. What hate and cruelty; my archenemy as twins. Fighting a combat between the two with your own bare hands and wit. A combat that I have always lost; causing on me more scars than any strong warrior or soldier bears. Especially now where I let go the love of my life; I do not know if I can withstand this any longer! Seeking vainfully after respect, love and to be accepted the way I am. Like a blind person seeking after some damn light or colour.

Briefly I shook my head to get rid of those painful thoughts and paced off down to the catacombs. Through a secret passage close by the Tube is a door that does not look so inconspicuous at first sight. Many people who pass by believe it is a door to the sewers or where the electricity is stored. It is actually a long forgotten entrance to the catacombs. As I stepped into its dark and silent world, I felt for brief moment some peace. The coolness and the deep silence astoundingly soothed my mind but alas not entirely. Like the new opera owners I have now nothing. Everything went up in flames except, my music. The only inspiration that I have left. I clinged the papers with the music notes closer to my heart, as if holding an infant to keep it warm. The only creation that I can not dare to destroy in any way. It is a part of my soul and heart. My flesh and blood presented through paper and ink. I would give my retched, cursed life if I must. If I had to choose between music and Christine, which luckily will never be the case, I think I would choose music. It all sounds heartless because I am and music is now the only thing that understands me like no one else. It will never betray me nor come to a misunderstanding and it is the only thing to help me express my feelings and my life. A life of a monster who dreams of beauty, fair and justice.

 **RAH!**

What dreams? Dreams of a fool with a horrid face! I clasped my cloved hands to my masked face. I am a fool and always will be. A fool with this, this face. I tore the mask off and threw it to some dark corner along my cloves. The papers rustled like leaves in autumn to the dusty ground. My cry echoed along the walls like that of a ghost but only a dangerous and a damned one.

Suddenly something small and warm trickled at one corner of my eye. I slowly searched with my finger. It was wet and warm. What is this? Is it what others call; a tear? A tear of what? Sorrow? Love?

Love. Oh Christine; how I wish to have you in my arms. Wishing to hear your beautiful voice; once more.


	2. The Boy with the Face

After a long moment of silence, astounded of the tear. Ghosts of my past haunted in my mind. Realizing that since I ran from the orphanage I never shed one. I can remember the first time, alas all too well, as a child... painful tears.

* * *

"Haha! Sackface! Sackface! What are you going to do now? Cry like a baby? Are you a baby? Where's your Mommy? Ha! Ha!" Called a group of boys, in the yard of an orphanage, down to a small built boy lying and facing the ground. Wearing a jute sack over his head. The sack had two tiny holes that allow the boy to see. "Sackface! Sackface!" They called him with such mockery as if it were a joke and laughed. Pointing with their fingers down at him and few threw pebbles at his bony and pale back. The name stung not only the boy's ears but also his heart like daggers. His whole body burned in pain from the punches, kicks and the throwing of pebbles he received from the children before collapsing to the ground.

Calling for help is useless; knowing all too well that his mother would only stand and watch with a composed smirk at the far end of the yard. Enjoying how he gets beaten up, as if some punishment he deserved but for what? The thoughts and his knowledge burned along in pain as the rest of his body. He can not hold it any longer. The urge for a retreat gave him the strength to stand up and run. He ran with all his strength into the main building of the orphanage. Quickly crawled upon a bed, pulled up his bony knees close under his chin while wrapping his thin arms around himself and gave a suppressed sob. Not very long something warm and moist trickled from his eyes over the cheeks and dripped slowly from his yaw line. Everything hurt. Everything was burning. Every breath he took made it more difficult to withstand. He barely felt the warm tear rolling down; feeling almost numb from the great pain.

For a long moment he remained so in bed. Slowly after few sobs and wiping the tears away with the back of his hand under the sack the pain soothed a bit but it was still unbearable, burning, stinging from his heart up to his throat. He felt small like a mouse; surrounded by giants and at the same time feeling like getting crushed against a cold hard wall while defending with all your strength. Feeling weak and helpless. The air pressed out of one's lungs. Breathless yet having the urge to call out for help.

Suddenly he heard a soft familiar shushing. Soon he felt a soft gentle stroking. The boy wanted to speak but he was afraid; afraid to ruin the moment, to worsen it. Instead he focused on the comforting strokes and remained frozen on the spot. Feeling how slowly the pain soothed away in every stroke. He gave out a deep sigh. Starting to forget everything that happened. "Mère" (mother) he sighed softly.

Suddenly a firm and painful grip took hold of his head. Gripping painfully at his hair and sack up that he faced the ceiling. He gave a brief cry of fear and pain while his hands searched for the other hand that grabbed him at the back of his head.

"Shut your stupid little mouth! I am not your mother! You hear me? I am not your mother! No son of mine looks like this!" She removed rapidly and harshly the jute sack, throwing it to the dirty floor. "You are no child like the others! You're a monster! A freak! Did you hear? A freak!" She called fiercely with hate while pulling by the boy's short dark hair. Rapidly she held in front of him a small mirror. "What you see is what you get. A freak! Ha! Ha!" She cackled wickedly.

The boy did not recognize himself. What he saw was a monster with a pair of human eyes staring right back at him in fear and pain. Those pale green eyes pleaded for mercy. Pleaded to be liberated from its captive inside the mirror. As the boy looked longer and closer into the mirror, he noticed the monster's face barely had a nose but two dark holes and its eyes are deep sunken into the skull; the skull of a human; a boy. The monster's eyes started to look back at the boy carefully.

"That's you! You're the monster, freak!" She remarked with the same fierceness as before. No hint of love. No hint of respect or even a mere speck of mercy. Treated like a freak; like a stray dog on the streets. She cackled on with no care in the world.

The boy's fear grew as he realized the monster staring back at him is he. What horror; what a face! What horror! Tears began to stream from his sunken eyes. In the mirror the monster began to shed tears at the same time. The boy's fear was so great he did not know what to do. Should he stay on the spot and stare at the mirror in tears or should he run off to find some solitude and peace? For a long moment he could not move but remain frozen and stare at his reflection. For the first time ever he saw his own reflection since he can remember. It was an ice-cold realization that sent a shiver down his spine. The boy with the face. A face of a monster.

Rapidly as his mother had held the mirror before him she withdrew it back and pushed him off the bed to the ground. The boy gasped in pain and to the sudden action. He remained still on the stone cold floor. Staring at his own-less jute sack lying close beside him while hearing the steps of his mother dampen away. Coldness of the floor was nothing compared to his pain inside him. Knowing the woman who treats him harsh and cruel is his mother but does she treat him so? Is it only because of his face?

Solitude slowly began to cover the boy like a ghostly blanket, a soft and comforting blanket. Yet the emotions under the boy's chest twirled greatly like a tempest. A storm of sorrow, pain and shame. How dearly he wanted to lie still on the cold stony floor and find his peace; evermore. Due to his great sought for peace more silent tears streamed from his eyes. Quickly he took hold of his jute sack and wore it over his head. His body still ached in every move, in every breath as before. He bit his lip and slowly began to get up on his feet. Fighting against the pain and the heavy weight of shame and sorrow. He shifted his weight to and fro in walking, numb from the pain, towards the yard to his favorite place. In his mind wandered with certain determination about leaving the orphanage. Thinking out a way. This is not the way he wants to live. There must be a better place outside the orphanage; beyond the walls that hold him back. The big question was not _what will_ be when he is out but _how_ to get out?

He sat down close beside the stony wall at one corner of the yard where a few firm branches of an oak tree grow over the wall. It is his favorite spot to be left alone. The other children never play there, yet to what particular reason is unknown. There is neither bad nor horrid in that corner, maybe simply because he is there. No matter what, he enjoys watching day for day how the leaves grow; change colours and few occasional insects fly spontaneously by, hoping to find something to their need. Sometimes daydream what would it be like if he had wings, flying far away from the yard, the orphanage?

He lay down so that he was facing the clear blue summer sky. The few fine branches casted shadows and a soft rustling was heard as a gentle breeze blew. The boy closed his eyes and listened carefully. Taking a deep breath and listened to the rustling of the leaves. Ignoring the pain inside him. It sounded like a lullaby to his ears. No harsh words or names.

Suddenly a soft buzzing was noticed. The boy opened his eyes and looked around to find where the buzzing comes from.  
Suddenly the buzzing stopped and the boy felt a slight ticklish feeling on one hand. He slowly moved his hand to see. There walked vividly and lightly a fly over the back of his pale, bony hand. He giggled softly and began to grin. What caused the boy to giggle and grin was not only of the tickling of the fly's thin legs but it flew to the boy without a sense of fear or ignorance like all the other children in the orphanage.  
With abrupt speed the fly flew off towards the wall. The boy rapidly got up on his feet to follow. His pale green eyes were focused on the fly like a frog after its prey. A grin was on his lips but no one saw it due to the jute sack covering his head to hide his monstrous face. Although he tried all his best to be kind and adjust to the children they all still are afraid of or hate him but the fly did not. Briefly after crawling along the wall the fly flew over the other side.  
Immediately the boy halted. Gave a sigh of sorrow. Feeling very lonely. Slowly he looked around, soon realizing that the tree is very close at the other side of the wall and few stones protrude that may give him some aid in climbing over. Could it be possible? Very carefully he began to scale the wall and watch when the guards would change their daily shifts day and night inside the yard.

Soon after many nights of careful observation and started to ration some food for the on coming journey. One night in late summer came the opportunity. The boy grabbed his slices of hard bread from under the table where he hid them all the time and wrapped them up in his wool blanket and following wrapped it round his upper frail built torso, so that he has free hands to climb. He waited carefully behind the open doorway to the yard for the right time when the guards change shifts in the yard so that he can sneak in between unnoticed. The guards started to chat and turn their back's to him. Quickly and silently as he could he ran across the yard towards his favorite corner. He halted and looked around. The guards still talked. Carefully he searched blindly with his hands along the wall, remembering which stone is where to climb up. Sooner that he had thought his hand found a good grip and one foot too. He did his best not to make a single sound or all is lost. The guards will catch him and his cruel loving mother will take a beat out of him. Soon a one of his hands had reached the top, gripping tightly to the edge. He is almost there. A victorious grin started to form upon his thin lips. Suddenly his foot slipped and little rubble fell to the ground.

"Halte! Qui va là?" (Halt! Who goes there?) Demanded a guard towards the boy at the wall.

Rapidly the boy climbed up to the top of the wall. He does not want to stay here for the rest of his life. Just as he was about to jump off the wall a firm hand grabbed his ankle tightly and painfully. "Oh no you don't! You're not going anywhere, garçon!"

The boy gasped in pain and immediately started to try to shake off the tight gripping hand off his ankle. Quick-witted he jumped off as an act of desperation to be out and landed painfully with his back on the cobble-stoned ground. For a brief moment he lay paralyzed on the ground while in his head shot a sudden pain. He breathed deeply trying to sooth the pain. It was not easy because his heart was beating wildly like a drum due to the excitement and now knowing he is outside. Out in the new world. The boy blinked and slowly rose to his feet. His back still ached but is able to move now. Not a single person in sight on the street he is in; all deserted.

"There he is!" Called a guard with a pointing finger and started sprinting towards him. The second guard was close to his heel. Without thinking the boy ran off the other direction down the road as fast as he could run. Running for his life; running for freedom. Soon he noticed in the dark that the street has many alleys and further streets turning sharply to the right or left. With the guards close after him the boy made brief turns and twists into other streets and alleys, trying to loose the guards off him.


	3. A New World

The boy with the face ran with all his strength, running as fast as his legs can carry. Taking quick and sudden turns into different alleys and streets. Hoping to lose the guards off him as soon as possible. After a while running he started to feel a stinging pain in his lungs aside of that his breath was short and his legs burned. He looked over his shoulder to see if the guards were still after him. No one in sight. Soon the boy halted to catch his breath. Slightly bending over his knees, letting his hands rest above the knees while his chest heaved to his heavy breathing. The stinging and burning was still there.

Aside the pain he felt a new emotion steering under his chest; close to the heart. Is it how freedom feels like? A certain weight off one's shoulder? Including another feeling or rather emotion that no words can describe; only it is hopeful and a vivid emotion. Above all it is a wonderful feeling that soothes all pain and it revives one to new strength. The boy sighs slowly and very soon the stinging and burning were almost completely gone. He walked to and fro of exhaustion towards a tall wall of a building. Leans against it with his back and looks up to the dark starry sky. The stars shone cold and distant but for the boy they were never so close before. Just at a reach of a hand. Nothing seemed impossible to the boy, even having a star in his hand. It was like living in a dream only it was reality. He breathed calmly while savouring the cool crisp air and the vivid emotion close to his heart. Knowing this is all real. Slowly he slid down along the wall to the ground while facing the sky; unnoticed his eyes grew heavy and fell asleep.

Suddenly something gentle started to pull at his neck. Rapidly he opened his eyes and took hold of his wool blanket that was tied round his neck. The pulling continued; quick-witted he stood up and made space for cautious reasons and to see who pulled at his blanket. A small girl and younger than him was pulling gently at his wool blanket. The girl said nothing but had its eyes fixed to the boy's. She had long wavy blonde hair and big grey blue eyes.

The girl started to cry silently as the boy made rapidly space from her. Rubbing slowly her eyes as tears streamed over her rosy chubby cheeks. She mumbled something that the boy did not understand but knew she was upset due to his reaction. The boy started to feel sorry for the girl and dared to take few steps closer. "Sorry but you can't take this. It's mine." He spoke softly and crouched down to an even level with the girl.

She sniffed and looked at him. Slowly she reached a hand out towards his jute sack. The boy immediately stepped back while she reached out to him. Suddenly the boy hit with his back against the wall and the girl's hand came closer. His heart raced in fear as he felt a gentle touch and noticed she stroked to feel out a face that lies underneath. The boy froze; not knowing what to do but to allow the girl touch his face. Eager to know what she is thinking about his face. Slowly and gently she took hold of the jute sack and lifted it; removing the sack from the boy's face. The boy at first hesitated but then began to wonder what if she sees his face. She took the jute close to her hands and looked closely at the two cut holes. Running gently with her small fingers over the woven surface. Noticing the holes but did not ask why they were there like all the other children did before running away or laughing at him.

She looked up to the boy. Their eyes met. The boy wondered eagerly what was going through the girl's mind as she was looking at him without the sack. _Fear? Hate?_ _A monster? A freak? Like his mother said? Is it true?_ _Even in this new world outside the orphanage?_

The girl looked closer by narrowing her slim and elegant blonde eyebrows and touched gently with her small hands over the boy's face. There was a long moment of silence while the girl searched and formed a face of the boy. He did not know who this girl is and yet let her touch his face. There is something with this girl but what? He can not make it out...

"Garçon." Mumbled the girl slowly and started to grin at him.

He blinked; barely believing what he had heard from the girl. She called him a boy in French. She sees him as a boy? A warm feeling started to grow somewhere deep from within. Now knowing he is not seen as a monster or freak like his mother said. Slowly he began to grin and did the same as she did, touching gently her face. He soon noticed her eyes were deep blue like violets but they always stared ahead in one direction. "Wha- what is with your eyes?" He asked unsure and lightly worried to hurt her.

"My eyes?" She asked slowly while touching with her hand over her own face. "There are fine. I can see only not so good like you. I can see colours and shapes but at night it's so dark I can't see a thing." She continued to grin.

"So you can see at day but not at night?" Repeated the boy in his own words and lightly astounded. The girl nodded with a smile.

She was smiling at him. No hint of fear or disgust. The warm feeling under his chest was like a dream. As warm as the summer sun. He was not accustomed to that warm feeling. Otherwise he always felt the cold and harshness like thorns on ice. That warming feeling felt almost alien and fearful but at the same time it is so soothing that his fear is almost clouded.

"I am Églantine. What's yours?"

"I-" The boy paused and wondered. Quickly looking away. Knowing he never had a real name like the girl's. "They call me Sack-Face."

"Why do they call you that? Who do you mean 'they'? Your parents?" Asked Églantine slowly but carefully thought. Her smile vanished to a concerned expression, almost sorrowful.

The boy took a deep breath. "I just escaped from an orphanage. 'They' I mean the other children there and my mother. In the orphanage there I used to wear this sack at all times over my face because it is not a nice face to see but still with the sack it makes little difference." He explained and held onto the sack that Églantine was holding onto but not pulling. "Everyone is afraid of me or hates me." The warm feeling disappeared like the wind and everything was cold inside him like before. That coldness felt for the first time now painful and ice-cold, longing for that warmth he felt before.

"But I don't hate you. You just got me scared at first because I didn't know you and you move fast. Now I know you're kind. You even care and my eyes are not always here but I can hear, smell and feel things." She grinned.

The boy started to grin to Églantine's comforting words which were also the utmost truth. "Your eyes are not always here; do you mean that you can see only at certain times during the day?"

Églantine giggled and held out her pale hand. "Oui (yes) and more. Take my hand, Garçon and I will show you what I mean."

The boy hesitated. He was not sure if she knew where to go nor did he. He does not even know where he is now. He bit his lower lip and took hesitantly, gently her small ice-cold hand.

Églantine giggled with excitement and started to walk ahead. Eager to show.

"Églantine, where are we going?" He asked nervously.

"Don't you worry. You're going to like it." She assured and led on.

Quickly the boy wore on his jute sack as they started to head down a street. Actually he did not like one bit but he knew the girl means it well. He was amazed how well the girl knew the way, although she can not see very well, yet knew exactly when a carriage passed and where to take a turn. As if she had no difficulty seeing things at all. The boy tried his best to walk along instead of being pulled by the girl but he could not stop looking around. He has never been outside the walls of the orphanage until today. The only thing that remained familiar was the sky. The boy has never seen so many people and so many buildings with streets and alleys.

"Come on. This way." Said Églantine excited. After many crossings of streets, walking through narrow alleys and turnings she halted at one narrow, dark alley. The boy remained silent yet he was eager to know where he was and why she halted. He looked down to her. He felt her hand lose and lightly warm from walking. "Here it is." Spoke Églantine softly.

"Hey Eggy! Found something for us tonight?" Called a boy who poked his head out of a window. He had very short-cut nut-brown hair. Upon his left cheek was a huge brown spot that covered nearly the entire cheek. His big grey-blue eyes shone with excitement including a broad grin upon his thin lips but it vanished as he noticed the boy wearing a jute sack over his head. "Who is that and why is he wearing some old sack over his head?" Asked the boy suspicious and quickly vanished.

Églantine walked closer to the building. The boy beside her began to feel uneasy and stood frozen on the spot. Not sure what to do. "It's okay. He's my brother." Spoke Églantine softly as before with a warming smile. "He will not call names at you and if he does then he has a problem with me." She assured strong willed. The boy blinked at her amazed. Slowly they stepped closer to the building of shattered windows and wooden bared doors. Églantine's brother appeared through a small opening of one barred door. He had about the same height as the boy and was skinny built in torn and dirty clothes. Walking up on bare foot.

"This is my brother, Claude." Pointed Églantine to her brother, then placed her other hand over the boy's hand. "This is my new friend, Garçon." She introduced.

"Garçon? What kind of a name is that for a kid like him and what's with the sack?" Claude raised an eyebrow of suspicion and had his arms crossed.

"I don't exactly know but to hide something not very nice like your big spot on your cheek. I felt his face and I didn't notice anything bad. He has two eyes, a mouth, a nose. Well a very small nose compared to yours or mine." She explained and pointed to her own nose.

"Hmm. Can he speak or are you doing all the talking for him? Did he lost his tongue?"

"No. He can speak but one who talks less, I think." Églantine looked up to the boy.

He looked down to Églantine and then to Claude. "I can talk but it's because no one really wants to listen to what I want to say. They only listen when they asked a question to me and expect an answer." Gave the boy truthfully.

"And what do you want to say?" Wondered Claude.

"At the moment to you is only that I wish to be treated normal like any other person. Under this sack is a face that is frightening to see for everyone. I am not what I look like." He gave with a sense of confident that he barely felt before. Is it Églantine who gives him courage?

"Aha. I'd like to take a look at your face before I can do anything further. So far I can trust you very little because my little sister does." Said Claude.

"Claude!" Remarked Églantine angered.

"Why? You were able to look-" Claude pauses and shook his head in disagreement, placing for brief moment a hand to his head. "You're blind! Eggy, what are you saying?" Recalled Claude.

"Why does it matter how his face looks like? He wears it and it stays there until he thinks you can take a peek. Secondly I'm not blind! I can still see shapes and colours!" She gave determined. Her face flushed to a reddish colour.

The boy blinked down amazed at Églantine. No one has ever respected him this way before and above all stood up for him. Not even his own mother.

Claude gave a disagreed grunt and walked back into the building.

"Come." Said Églantine and lead the boy by the hand into the building. He was still somewhat uneasy; not sure what to do but trust Églantine like she does to him. He wanted to call her name to notice but Claude suddenly blocked their path. The boy was fast enough to halt Églantine from walking into her own brother.

"Stop right there! What do you think you're doing, Eggy?" Called Claude angered.

"Taking him in. He needs a home." Answered Églantine concerned and serious.

"What? No, no, no! He's not some lost pet! You can't take him in! That's out of the question!"

"Why Claude?" She asked sorrowful. "You said you trust him because I do. Why can't he stay? There's a lot of room for him and he has no other place to stay. He just got out of an orphanage."

"What?" Claude blinked amazed. "Non! (No!) The guards and police are surely looking for him and when they find it's not only him but us too. Do you want to go back to live like a prisoner at a factory or rot in an orphanage?"

"No but he can stay for at least until the winter is gone."

Claude grunted in disagreement and bit his lower lip.

"Oh please brother? Please? He can be helpful. I trust him."

"Alright. Until the winter is gone. Then he is out." Groaned Claude annoyed and stepped aside.

"Oh thank you dear big brother! You're the best brother I've ever had! You won't regret this." Thanked Églantine and hugged her brother around the stomach.  
The boy could not help stop grinning and strangely was for the first time thankful to be wearing a sack to conceal it.

Claude grunted and clenched his teeth annoyed while his little sister embraced him long. He mumbled somewhat under his breath but the boy did not understand what he said. Few moments later Églantine showed the boy the room that they live in. There was only one fireplace and one battered bed in one dark corner. "It's not much but it's home." Noted Églantine while the boy's eyes wandered across the room and noticed many details.

The walls were entirely covered with newspapers and few small bits of wood lay ready to be burned for the night at the fireplace. "You sleep on the bed tonight." She offered while searching with her small pale hands the head of the bed while following along the wall.

"Non. (No.) I- I couldn't. You should sleep there. I can easily sleep close by the fire."

"Come on, Garçon. Just for one night."

"No. It's too much. Being able to stay here is greater than I've ever thought." Remarked the boy friendly and nervous.

"He's right Eggy. It's too much. You keep the bed while him and I sleep close the fire; as always." Recalled Claude cold and almost in a hiss of a snake.

Églantine gave a disagreeable tone that sounded almost like a whining.

"It's already dark. We should get some sleep and catch up with our collecting tomorrow. All thanks to you, Eggy."

"Why is it always me? Only because I can't see so well like you?" She said. Almost bursting into tears. "Papa would never say such a thing." She spoke softly and climbed into her bed.

"Papa is dead. Now get some sleep." Remarked Claude and knelled before the fireplace to light a fire.

The boy stood only there and watched how Églantine gave a sob into her old worn pillow and Claude focused on the fire.

"Garçon. Is that your name?" Wondered Claude after a long moment of silence.

"Actually I don't have a name but in the orphanage I was called Sack-face." He answered, walking up to the fire and crouched beside Claude.

Claude blinked at the boy surprised and then quickly looked back to the flames. "Why?"

"How should I know? No one has ever given me a name like you and your sister. I think it's all because of my horrid face."

"We will never call you that. If you like Garçon then we'll call you Garçon." Said Claude and lay close by the fire. Facing his back to him. The boy did not say another word but was thankful to what Claude said aside showing his cold side. He himself also lay close by the fire and covered half himself in his wool blanket. He noticed the untouched food he had taken with. Quickly he placed them on top of the fireplace to keep it warm and others to see their breakfast in the morning.

"What are you doing?" Wondered Claude suspicious as he saw the boy standing up. Turning half around.

"Breakfast." Spoke the boy and showed him the few pieces of hard bread.

"So Eggy _did_ find something. You could have shown it a lot sooner." Mumbled Claude exhausted and turned round to sleep.

The boy quickly lay down again and watched at the flames flickering vividly and savouring the warmth. No more with the name Sack-Face; now he is called Garçon. A far pleasant name to have. Yes. For now on he will be Garçon and be forever in dept to the two children in this room. But they mentioned another name like 'Papa', Garçon wondered who might that be that died some time ago and those two children knew well.

With those thoughts Garçon's eyelids felt heavy...


	4. Boulevards & Pockets

A gentle tapping on his shoulder awoke him from his sleep. "Garçon. Wake up." Spoke Églantine softly. "It's time to get up. Breakfast is ready."

Garçon blinked and slowly sat up and groan and rubbed his eyes under the sack.

"Don't talk as if we have a table full of food, Eggy." Hissed Claude while standing up and walking across the room towards the barred window.

"What is it? There is a little food left for him. He must have brought it from the orphanage."

"I thought you brought it." Remarked Claude to Églantine.

"Why can't you accept him like I do to him? He will help us. Working together is what makes us better searching food."

"Eggy, did you fetch some water from the fountain?" Sighed Claude and rolled his eyes.

"No and it's not my turn."

"Well it's not mine either."

"I could fetch it." Yawned Garçon while standing up giving a long stretch.

"Non, Eggy should go and the next time you or I can go." Remarked Claude coolly.

"Why is it always me?" She asked almost bewildered.

"Because you're my little sister that's why." Noted Claude determined.

Églantine grunted and mumbled something under her breath while grabbing a bucket and stumped out the room. Claude quickly threw a glance to Garçon.

Garçon gave another yawn and walked over to the table to find a small piece of hard bread. Quickly he bit off a piece and started to chew. The bread was cold, dry and not very appetizing. Food was never appetizing for Garçon but he knew he was hungry and needed to eat or else he will be soon tired. With considerable courage and nerves he was able to chew the piece of bread and swallow it down.

"Yeah the bread is stale but it's better than nothing." Noted Claude without looking to Garçon, focusing out the window. Garçon began to wonder if Claude heard how loud he swallowed down the bread.

Églantine muttered and grunted while carrying up the stairs and into the room the bucket full of ice-cold water and hung it over the last few hot blazes of the fire.

"Eggy I would be glad if you stay today in the neighbourhood while Garçon and I will go to the Boulevard and Les Halles. We will be back before night fall." Instructed Claude.

"Okay but I want to work with Garçon tomorrow." Noted Églantine lightly annoyed.

Claude grinned at her approvingly. "You will." Immediately a smile flashed across her pale oval shaped face. "Come Garçon. There are lots of things to be done today." Explained Claude while walking the down the stairs. Garçon followed him closely.

They passed many streets, alleys and backyards. Sometimes climbed over wooden walls. Soon they halted at one corner of a building, looking down a long and broad street filled with people in colourful dresses, carriages and few small trees with fresh green leaves.

"Bon (well), this is the Boulevard. Many fancy people walk around with fancy things at their hands or belts and pockets." Explained Claude while watching down the street. Garçon looked along. "Do you see that woman dressed in a white-yellowish dress with a fancy umbrella? Aside the umbrella you should focus on her purse. See how it shines? There's a lot of money waiting to be traded. In our situation food and wood. Now you stay here. Just watch and listen carefully." Instructed Claude and walked off straight towards the woman he mentioned.

Out of excitement Garçon gripped his hands at the edge of the wall of the building. Looking and listening very attentively what Claude does. In the distance Garçon barely heard what was said because many carriages passed down the street. He only saw with amazement how Claude did it easily.

Claude pointed for a brief and discreet moment to a middle aged woman wearing an elegant cream coloured dress with parasol and fitting purse at her wrist. Few other children were close to her, begging with open hands and big watery eyes yet the woman showed no remorse. Quickly he ran sideways into the woman as if it was some accident. Rapidly while falling to the ground Claude grabbed the woman's purse and hid it under his dirty and worn shirt.

Garçon grabbed tightly his sack out of sheer nervousness. As Claude got up from his fall he quickly helped up the woman and started brush off the dirt of her skirt with one hand while the other was fumbling under his shirt. All the other children ran away as Claude almost tackled the woman. Unnoticed he handed back the purse while apologizing greatly and continuing to brush off more dust. The woman thanked coldly and walked on as if nothing happened.

Garçon began to wonder if Claude really got some valuables from the woman's purse or something else. As Claude was within an earshot walking causally towards him, Garçon asked with great curiosity. "What did you get?"

Claude grinned broadly in response. As he was beside Garçon his hand fished into his worn trouser pocket. Some light metal sound jingled. It was a familiar sound and out revealed on Claude's hand shiny silver coins.

Garçon gasped at the sight.

"Now it's your turn." Grinned Claude and quickly hid the coins back into his pocket.

"Quoi (what)?" Remarked Garçon and blinked in disbelief and took a step back. Knowing all too well that stealing is not the right thing to do.

"You saw how I did it. Come on we need the money for food and wood. If you get lucky like I did just now, then we might call it a day."

"But- but I learned that stealing is not the right thing." Recalled Garçon shyly.

"Absolutely true Garçon but that counts for those who have already enough money to buy what they need. We need money desperately for food and warmth. Secondly we're children." Explained Claude lightly annoyed with narrowed eyebrows.

Garçon still did not feel comfortable with stealing but he knew what Claude meant. Aside that he felt a bit uncomfortable with everything around him; it was all new to him. He nodded to Claude's explanation.

"Bon (good). Before you start, who do you want to lighten one's purse, pocket or wallet?" Asked Claude eagerly while looking with Garçon down the busy street.

After a moment's silence Garçon wondered with a pointing finger. "How about that old man there?"

"Careful!" Hissed Claude softly and pushed quickly Garçon's pointing hand down. "Never point with a hand to the person you intend to steal! Some are clever enough to notice and then all is perdre (lost)."

They both saw an elderly man walking slowly with the support of a walking stick. Holding a brown leather folder under the other arm, wearing a black wool knitted scarf and with a top hat with a dark coat. He had a white goatee beard and curled white eyebrows. His eyes were almost sunk deep in his wrinkles of age and hidden behind small round shaped spectacles.

"Mhmm." Wondered Claude critical. "You could give it a try but if all fails run as fast as you can." Noted Claude and pushed Garçon onto the street.

Garçon almost tripped over his own feet due to the sudden strong push of Claude. Quick-witted he was able to hold his balance. Suddenly someone walked into him and they both fell. Garçon quickly collected himself and realized the elderly man he had planned to pickpocket had just walked into him.

Rapidly Garçon apologized and started to help the elderly man back on his feet. The elderly man apologized too and was thankful for Garçon's help. Garçon knew now was the perfect opportunity to pickpocket like Claude did but he could not. The elderly man was too kind. Garçon noticed that the man had in his hand a brown leather folder filled with papers. They were spread around them like mere leaves on the ground. Quickly Garçon collected them and handed them to the man. The elder smiled at him. Garçon started to grin and was again thankful that the sack hid it.

"An odd fellow you are. Here. Mérci (thank you) for helping me." Thanked the elderly man while handing Garçon three silver coins. Garçon looked down surprised at his open hand. Never was he ever lauded for something that he has done. At first he was confused how to react. He could not help grinning and watching how the elderly man walked out of sight from the crowd. "Merci (thank you)." Whispered Garçon and looked down to his three silver coins. Garçon felt again that warm and light feeling under his chest. _What kind of a feeling is that? A feeling that not only feels warm and light with a grin but also tall and ... Confident?_

"Hey Garçon! What did you get?" Called Claude from the wall were Garçon before stood and watched. Garçon blinked, turned round and walked up to him. He revealed the coins with a sense of pride. "That's it?" Questioned Claude, sounding disappointed with a raised eyebrow. Garçon only nodded. "Bon (fine). I should not complain. It's your first try. You can't always catch the big fish on the first go. Come on." Walked Claude ahead with a wave of an arm as if to gesture Garçon to follow.

Garçon quickly followed him. Afraid of being left behind and getting lost. Remaining close to Claude's heel. "Are we going back? Wondered Garçon while putting carefully his coins into his trouser pocket.

"Back? Who ever mentioned of going now back home?" Remarked Claude lightly angered while pacing on and throwing one back glance to Garçon. "You and I are heading now to Les Halles to buy and maybe grab some extra food. The day has just barely begun and many things a-wait for us."

"Les Halles?" Repeated Garçon insecure.

"Oui, Les Halles. It is known also as the 'Stomach of Paris'. All the fresh goods of food come here. Fresh herbs and oils from the south of France, fresh fish from the north and more than you can think of. Have you ever heard of Les Halles?"

Garçon shook his head.

Claude gave a loud sigh and muttered something under his breath that Garçon did not understand while walking close behind his heels. As they walked on Garçon's eyes wandered everywhere around him, noticing the streets and alleys look more similar like where Claude and Églantine live. Everything in a dark brown shade, dusty, dirty and battered through use, time and weather. The air did not smell so refreshing as on the boulevard of fresh air and lightly sweet of the nectar of flowers, but of sewerage, alcohol and basically dirt. In short very unpleasant. Even the people there were dressed in different shades of brown and appeared dirty and worn.

Suddenly Claude halted and Garçon almost walked into him if he had turned to look at the right moment where Claude headed. Over Claude's shoulder Garçon saw a large square filled in every corner with long, large stands filled with varieties of food. One had one apples, other different sorts of herbs and another sold all sorts of meat you can think of and more. Garçon dropped his yaw. He never saw so much food on one place and understood perfectly why Les Halles is called the stomach of Paris.

"Here's what you and I are going to do. You and I will sneak through the square to the fish stand and snatch three fishes from the fishmonger. You will snatch the fishes while I will distract the fishmonger, comprends (understood)?" Said Claude while his eyes remained fixed at the stands.

"J'ai compris (I understand)." Responded Garçon and swallowed loudly. He did not like the plan one bit. If only it were the other way round it would have been manageable. Upon the square the two boys saw many busy workers. Busy people cutting fresh meat and fish, others shoved barrels to some pub or restaurant and many men carried tall stacked boxes of fruits or vegetables from one stand to another or even upon a wagon. Busy it was indeed. For Claude it was a joyful challenge but for Garçon it was more like a horrid living labyrinth with traps.

Garçon swallowed loud and clenching his hands tighter in anxiety.

"Don't be like some shy girl. Alles (come)." Whispered Claude excited and walked off into the busy crowd with stands.

Garçon knew as Claude set off there is no turning back. He took a deep breath and walked about the same route as Claude did. Soon he spotted in the distance the fish stand and Claude pacing past it. _What is he doing?_

Slowly with a keen eye Garçon snug his way close unseen and unheard towards the fishmonger. The fishmonger was whistling a cherry song while cutting few fishes and placing them nicely upon the iced table to keep them fresh. Few cats totted about close by the man, waiting patiently for some bit of fish and meowing silently.

Slowly and silently Garçon snug along with a few cats closer to the man, who had his back shown to him, Garçon was close at a reach of a hand to get a fish from the iced table.

"Hey fishmonger! Are those fresh fishes of today or those still the old ones from last week?" Called a familiar voice, Claude. Rapidly the fishmonger turned to the table and faced down at Claude who stood at the opposite side of the table. At the same time as few cats ran off Garçon hid under the table. His back bumped gently at a box that made a metal jingle. _Did the fishmonger hear it?_ The fishmonger's large boots were facing him. He froze and held his breath. Not sure if the fishmonger saw him or not. Too afraid to think of seeing the man's face peering from above at him.

Soon drops of sweat pearled down Garçon's forehead. His heart was beating vivid under his chest, almost bursting out in fear. He clapped his mouth as he started to breathe through his mouth. Avoid to make any sound and barely able to move. If he does and the fishmonger notices; it would be a disaster beyond any imagination.

"Quoi (what)? Those are fresh fish caught early this morning while you were sleeping, garçon. No fish of mine remain so long on the ice. They are all sold till late afternoon on the same day. Plus one or two I share with the cats and myself. Now, is there a certain fish you're looking for young lad?" Asked the fishmonger with a composed voice. Garçon saw one of his black boots began to tap impatiently. The tapping made Garçon more nervous than before. Slowly Garçon dared to peek out and look up, the fishmonger was totally focused at Claude. _Now is the chance!_ Slowly Garçon reached out a hand and began to search blindly for a fish with his hand. Soon the cool ice began to burn painfully. Slowly Garçon stood up to see where lies the next closest fish to grab.

"My father bid me to buy a very special fish. One with two eyes and is very wide but I forgot the name." Gave Claude casually while his glance at times wandered to Garçon's frail arm close beside the fishmonger.

The fishmonger chuckled. "Every fish has two eyes. Do you mean a sole-fish like this one?" Presenting one at the other side from where Garçon hid.

Claude bit his lip. "Oui. Wait! Non. Are there other fishes that are very wide?"

"Mais bien sûr (But of course)! Here are all the wider fishes I caught today." Recalled the fishmonger friendly.

Rapidly Garçon slipped three fishes off the iced table. His frail back hit again against the box and the metal jingled louder.

"What was that?" Wondered the fishmonger.

"Look! Over there!" Pointed Claude at the opposite direction in awe.

The fishmonger followed Claude's glance. "I see nothing, garçon. No need to worry it was some cat that got close to my fishing gear because it smells of fish and salt. Now where were we I-" As the fishmonger turned back to Claude he was gone.

While the fishmonger turned the other direction Garçon sprinted with all his strength out of his hiding place with the three cold fishes at hand and Claude followed him closely. They ran nearly the entire way back to their battered home. As they halted Garçon's heart was pounding wildly and his breath was heavy.

"Not bad how you did it, Garçon. Now, was it so bad?" Panted Claude.

"Actually it was horrible. I don't want to do it again."

"I'm afraid that's out of the question if you, Églantine and I should survive. Especially when Winter's coming closer by the day."

"Claude!" Remarked Églantine while bringing few bits of wood to the fire place.

"What is it with you? Why can't you just take something because you need it so dearly? Why?" Sighed Claude annoyed to Garçon.

"Arrête (stop)! Garçon, did my brother mistreat you in any way?" Asked Églantine concerned.

Claude scoffed and hung the fishes in a quick and careless fashion close to the fireplace.

As Églantine asked Garçon, he was frozen. No one has ever showed concern to him. "Non." He gave shortly and shook his head. A warm feeling burned for a brief moment under his chest that made him smile.

Églantine bit her lower lip and took a deep breath while looking at her older brother.

"What?" Remarked Claude and raised his shoulders while leaning against the window.

She shook her head. "Nothing."

The children had a good warm meal and soon fell asleep close by the fire, except Garçon. For a long time, he watched how the flames flickered and licked against the metal, as if it was a living spirit dancing before his eyes. Garçon sighed, taking off without thinking the jute sack from his head and rubbed his eyes. He was tired as the others. Slowly he looked to Claude and Églantine; they slept peacefully. While looking at sleeping Églantine his thin lips began to curve to an absent-minded grin of content and admiration. _No matter what happens; I will never forget you. You who is not afraid of me and treats me like I've always wished._ On tip toe he gently tucked the blanket closer to her. to keep her warmth better. Smiling at her how she slept.

Unnoticed Garçon fell asleep beside Églantine with a contented grin for the first time. No more painful tears.


	5. Alms & Songs

"Where are we going, Églantine? Are we going to pick more pockets?" Wondered Garçon to Églantine while walking together down a small busy street.

"Pick pocketing? That's how my brother does it. No, I have my own way. Collecting money without stealing. Mine may sound boring compared to Claude's but I feel better with it. Papa strictly told us not to steal."

"Papa? Who's that?" Wondered Garçon.

Églantine halted and stared at Garçon with widened eyes. Her blue eyes slightly trembled. "You don't know who's papa?" She paused to collect. "Erm, papa is another name for father. Don't- don't you have a father?" She wondered almost in disbelief.

Garçon shook his head. "What's a father? Is it a person?"

"You don't know what's a father?" She asked stunned in almost a whispering tone. For a long moment, there was silence between the two. Quickly Églantine shook her head and blinked to collect while biting her lower lip. "Erm..." She looked up to the sky to think. "A father is a person, a man who loves you and takes care of you. He's a part of the family to love and protect. He's always there for you."

"You do have a mother, don't you?" Asked Églantine.

Garçon bit his lip and took a deep breath. Pictures of the woman in the orphanage appears in his mind. A young woman with long dark wavy hair always bundled behind a white head scarf. Slim and dark eyebrows remained narrowed above her almond shaped dark brown eyes when she looked down at him. That woman who he called mother always rejected to the name in a violent manner. A stinging pain stung in his heart as the memories revived in his mind. "Oui, I had." He spoke in a soft tone and his hands balled to fists.

"What is it, Garçon? Do you miss you her?" She stepped closer with concern.

Garçon began to shake his head without thinking while facing to the plaster stones besides his bare and dirty feet. Oddly, he did not miss his mother but could not forget her. The pain at his heart stung greater than any knife can cut. He clasped with one hand to his shoulder. "She- she was not the loving sort." Breathed Garçon while trying to suppress the pain and tears. Now knowing how loving a father or a mother could be from Églantine's description.

Églantine did not say a word but bit her lower lip.

Suddenly Garçon felt something warm and soft round his stomach. He looked down and gasped in surprise. Églantine was there, embracing him with closed eyes. He began to tremble, not knowing what to do while a warming and comforting feeling grew from his heart and Églantine's arms. "Ég- Églantine?" He stuttered in awe. Taking him a long moment to recollect his words. "Wha- What are you doing?" Ready to take a step away from that eerie yet lovely warmth felt from Églantine. Contented, afraid and confused what to do next. Open the embrace? Will some sort of hurting come against like his mother did? He remained frozen like a statue. He heard his heart throbbing at the ears and his hands began to tremble.

"I'm hugging you, Garçon. It's alright. I'm hugging you because I feel sorry for you. A hug is to comfort and make someone you like feel happy." Explained Églantine without opening the embrace and looking up to him.

"H- Hug?" Garçon blinked. Not only the emotions that stir from within him are alien but the word sounded odd too. The warmth was overwhelming and lovely. His heart raced. At first it was fear, now it is something else. _If it is not fear, then what is it? Like Églantine said; happiness?_ From the feelings within tears began to well in his eyes and an urge to do the same to Églantine. Those were tears of mixed emotions of fear and joy. Slowly his long pale skinny arms wrapped gently round Églantine. A grin began to curve on Garçon's thin lips while that warming feeling spread greater through his entire body like a great flame consuming him, only very gentle. So gentle it would make one grin or smile and never forget the moment. A feeling coming deep from the heart and soul and reaches the other. So deep and connecting to one another that it creates itself a new world. A world without fear and pain. Garçon saw for the first time how beautiful it can be.

For a long moment they embraced each other in the middle of the busy street with closed eyes. Savouring the emotions that touches their heart and soul. Suddenly an outcry of a man on a wagon made the two children open their embrace and eyes. Before Églantine realized that they were still on the street, Garçon quickly and gently took her hand and pulled her onto a sidewalk. The outcry of the man was like an alarm that awoke the two sudden from their deep and peaceful slumber. She blinked while looking up to Garçon and began to smile. He smiled back from under his jute-sack that covers his face.

"Allez (Come on)!" Noted Églantine and took Garçon's hand to lead. Soon they halted at one corner of a large crossing. "This is the place I always to come to collect some coins." She explained while placing in a tidy fashion a small, lightly smudged, piece of cloth on the ground in front of her. "Here come the coins. As a thank you for the coins I dance or sing a to the people."

Garçon did not entirely understand what she meant but knew his questions will be answered just by watching. He sat quietly behind her and watched with the highest attention. He wanted to understand how she does it.

Many carriages passed in different speed and in different forms. Some carried wares and good and others carried few people at a time. There was a never ending sound of horseshoes clopping on paved stones, once or twice Garçon noticed a special wagon drawn by strong oxes. _If Églantine should sing and dance here, how will she get coins in this loud place?_

Suddenly he heard from the loud clattering a long clear note floating or flying in the air. It sounded composed and without a false note to notice. Something Garçon never has heard in his life. Soon his eyes followed to the origin of the sound he heard. It came from Églantine's lips, from her small slender throat. It was her voice. Garçon stared at her in awe. Never has he ever heard something so unique, especially from Églantine. The singing he has heard from the children in the orphanage sounded always out of tone than that of an adult's and very insecure that made them laugh or giggle madly, which was annoying to him. The singing of the adults always sounded nice and composed to Garçon's ears but now hearing Églantine's; it is different. A strange feeling stirred within him that no words can describe. It made him listen carefully than ever with the fullest curiosity.

Her voice is still that of a child but clear, composed on the right note and secure down to her bare feet. Her eyes were closed as she sang. Not very long, her arms that hung loose beside her began to move to the words she was singing. Her face was before relaxed as if asleep, were now composed to the fitting expression of the words. It was a sight of acting and singing combined. The song she sung was new to Garçon's ears. So captivating it was to him that all what he could do was watch and listen; memorizing everything down to the last detail. As if it was her last song to sing. Her words to the song were pronounced clearly and slowly. As if time itself stopped to listen and Églantine had all the time in the world. The world that Garçon discovered few days ago appeared now in her singing somewhat different. Everything slowed down and the environment around him became clearer than ever. There was a comforting feeling of safety and warmth.

Somewhere deep within Garçon's breast he felt an odd warming feeling. What made it odd was, it was not new. It felt like he felt it before a long time ago. That time that he can not remember. Slowly Garçon realized a moment like this happened before from a person he liked. A woman's voice. So soft, so close and so warm. Exactly that place where he once felt safe. Recalling all this felt like thinking back on a dream. Slowly Garçon placed a hand to his breast to feel his heart and however possible grasp better that 'old and familiar' emotion. Slowly he looked up to Églantine. The sun made her long wavy blonde hair shine like the sun itself and her rosy cheeks glowed with softness and warmth. What a sight it was for Garçon.

After few long moments Églantine ended her song with a small bow. Few people have assembled round her, they clapped and others dropped coins onto the piece of cloth. Soon she continued to the next song which Garçon did recognize. It was the same song sung in the orphanage. From her it sounded almost like an entirely different song to Garçon's ears. More heartfelt and merry than he usually heard it. In the end he mouthed silently along the song but did not dare to sing. He did not want to interrupt her song in any manner.

After a few other songs Églantine collected the coins and sat beside Garçon with a warming smile and took a deep breath. "Well, that's how I do it."

"You- you sung wonderfully, Églantine." Garçon stuttered in awe of her voice.

She giggled. "Garçon, can you sing?"

"Sing? Me?" Wondered Garçon lightly surprised with a stiff pose and widened eyes. "I-I don't know. Maybe?" He responded somewhat insecure.

"Don't worry. We can sing together if you like." Suggested Églantine with a warming smile.

Garçon nodded vividly his head that the jute sack shook back and forth very fast.

Églantine stood up and offered her hand to help up Garçon. "Come on." Hesitantly Garçon took gently Églantine's hand and stood up. Together they stood side by side, hand in hand facing the busy crossings of wagons and carriages. "The same song as before." Gave Églantine and began to sing.

Garçon bit his lower lip for a moment as she started singing. His nervousness was too great to sing. Suddenly he felt a gentle squease from Églantine's hand. He looked down at their holding hands and then up to her. She continued singing but her eyes were on Garçon. In her blue eyes Garçon saw the encouragement, pleading him to try and that he is not alone.

After few deep breaths he began to open his mouth and try his best to sing along. At first he noticed his voice can not reach the heights like Églantine's but decided to sing a befitting tone to his voice and yet sounds in harmony with Églantine's. Once started he knew there is no turning back. To his amazement the longer he sung the more courage flowed through his entire body like the blood in his veins. The nervousness within him and the fear evaporated within few words that he sung. He sung his fears and pain away.

For the first time he forgot that he is wearing a jute sack over his head and felt more relaxed and yet alive. It felt as if he were normal like Églantine and the other few people who started gathering round them. Being no monster or a freak but a boy, a human and yet remain his true self. Again Garçon felt how the time grew slower and his environment grew clearer than ever. The warmth and safety was there. This time he even felt the people without looking or touching. He felt their presence and attention. Together, Églantine and Garçon sang from one song to the other. Their voices sounded perfectly lovely to one's ear and yet sweet. It was admiring to listen like others admire to smell a flower in the garden.

Suddenly he found himself singing on his own; without Églantine's help. While singing he turned round to see her out of concern. She sat contented with crossed legs where he sat before on the floor. She smiled and nodded. As Garçon turned round he noticed it sounded different. His voice was composed and right on every note too. Like Églantine's but only a few notes deeper and so soft. He never thought he could sing so well like Églantine. As he finished singing he quickly headed to Églantine. She applauded warmly as few other men and women did while tossing a coin or two onto the cloth on the floor.

"Bravo Garçon! You sung wonderfully!" She applauded while clapping her small hands enthusiastically.

Garçon grinned while taking a deep breath. The singing has made him slightly out of breath but felt contented like never before with a curving grin that will never vanish. _This way to collect money is far better than Claude's._

"You sung so well Garçon the people around you weren't afraid to come close and listen. You know." Églantine smiled while gently tapping close to Garçon's neck were a part of the just sack cloth rests.

Garçon froze to realization. How can he forget and yet he somehow did? Was it all from the singing or something more? He was speechless. All he could do was stare at Églantine. How can he forget that, the very reason why wearing the jute sack over his head to cover his face? If Églantine had not mentioned he might have removed the jute sack in open public without thinking. Not having a care in the world what others will think of his face. Doing the unthinkable. _You're a monster! A freak! Did you hear? A freak!_ Called his mother with a mocking laughter from the past in his mind while holding the small mirror to his face that stared in awe back with a tear from one corner of his eye. _People will see the same as she did; no one shall ever see my face._ Thought Garçon while slowly gripping tightly to his jute sack at the level of his neck.

"What's the matter?"

Églantine's voice and tone of concern made Garçon gasp and look at her. He was staring at the ground before him all this time. His knuckles were white of tension from gripping tightly to the sack below his chin. Églantine looked deeply into his eyes as if trying to read his mind and understand. He saw and felt her concern.

"Nothing." Garçon looked away and bit his lip. He did not want her to be worried about him.

"Whatever it is. You can tell me. I promise not to tell it to anyone else."

Garçon looked back at her in surprise. He swallowed to collect his words. "I-I can't tell you. It's too painful."

"Claude and I lost our father what was very painful to us. Now that you're with us you are a part of our family. You help, you care us. Like, like a father." Tears began to well in her large blue eyes. "I'd like to help you in return."

"Oh no, please. Églantine, don't cry. It makes me sad to see you cry. Please don't cry." Spoke Garçon in soft and concerned tone. He wanted to come close to her and comfort her but _how? Wait, Églantine did something this morning that is said to be comforting for the one you like very much. What was it? A h-hug? How does a hug go? Place one's arms around the person? Just like that? That simple?_

Hesitantly while Églantine cried in tears, Garçon moved close to her and placed gently and slowly his arms round her. Soon she rested her head on his chest and had her arms round him. The same warm feeling began to glow from within as before. The comforting flame burning gently. Slowly through time Garçon had the feeling he needed to let his head rest on top of hers and did so.


End file.
